


a book filled with words i don't know

by blood_on_my_carpet_again



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Bird Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Bird Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Family Fluff, Happy TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Pig Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Not Insane, Winged Wilbur Soot, for now tommy is happy, for now..., idk i have a plot this time, kinda a mix of those two aus, sbi, yeah i planned this in like three days.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blood_on_my_carpet_again/pseuds/blood_on_my_carpet_again
Summary: How often does one question the world they lived in for years until they are taken out of it? Do they think of it as normal? As the way everybody else has lived up until now?How does one traverse their own mind when everywhere in it feels like a landmine waiting for a foot to just nudge it slightly?Seldomly I ask myself questions about such things, wondering how I went from there to here or here to there.An adventure through a world where things aren't perfect outside that little bubble, not that they were inside it either. Sometimes shit happens, sometimes your new world crashes down on you before you even get to experience it for long enough to remember it.Sometimes looking to others for help is needed. Family isn't just there for taunts and jibes, it's just the matter of learning how to ask for it.[Technoblade-centric technically, however it's mostly Sleepy Bois Inc. just focused on Techno's POV. I will write in other's POVS if it adds to the story's atmosphere.]
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, more to be added im just lazy
Kudos: 28





	1. Metanoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> broooooo i speedran this in a day. take it.
> 
> comment, leave kudos, do whatever. all of it is appreciated and ily <3 muah
> 
> this arc/part of the story goes on for i'd say about 5 to 8 chapters, then you guys finally get to be introduced to tommy danger kraken innit. or whatever that kid's name is.

**Metanoia**

**(n.) The act of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life.**

**Sometimes, I look back and reminisce. Things were hard then, it’s odd seeing how things are now compared. Maybe it’s worse, it’s hard to tell without knowing the before or after. All in due time.**

* * *

  
  


The quiet almost unnoticeable sound of dirt falling to the ground, or how it should have been. It bled into his ears, drowning out whatever was near him at the time. The way time moved much too quickly for somebody his age. How it whipped him around on his feet, picking up the tempo anytime he felt slightly relaxed.

The shuffling of wings, the feathers brushing against each other, roused and agitated at the sight. A man wringing his hands together in concern. Was that pity? What could be classified as such?

How would he know? People wore face coverings most of the time. It provided a level of disconnect from what they did. The less human the mask, the less human and wrong the actions felt.

  
Well, you’d suppose it’d be like that. You’d really think hard about your actions wouldn’t you? You’d like to think you were a good person. What if you were back against that wall, all bite and no bark just like a cornered animal? What if the only way out of such a predicament was shutting down that little bit of love and empathy which was cultivated for you? That had been barely there to begin with?

He was too young. Much too young to be in there, that didn’t stop people from taking advantage of such naivety. Children were easily manipulated, easily taken if they didn’t have somebody gunning for them. Protectors, guardians, parents even were hard to come by. Everybody had to look out for themselves now, and good people were even harder to find.

You could’ve seen it on his face if you were there watching. The feigned indifference, the way his eyes darted around the dirt pit they called the “Arena.” It could barely be called so. You could see how tense the tiny body of his was. The clear to see fear that just exuded from the little boy, that the people pursuing him ignored and laughed about.

How the crowd chuckled at his shaky movements, cheering when the adults swiped at the child, only barely missing for dramatic effect. How his hands were gripped so tightly around the only weapon in his vicinity that his knuckles were white. You could see the kid’s resolve harden, you could barely call him a kid. He’d had just made it past his toddler years.

The crowd all held their breath, surprised at the poor little scrap trying to fight back, to muster whatever he had left in him. They’d been putting that kid through hell the whole night. Whatever rest he’d gotten was from watching others spill their blood on the dirt from far far away.

He’d finally had enough, whatever fear that had stricken him was gone now. Replaced by an empty expression, replaced by a glaze over his eyes, an almost foggy expression. A gurgle split through the somehow deafening silence, one of the men taunting the kid fell to his knees. Grasping at his throat, like a wild animal clawing at it’s cage. The remaining two muttered a fearful annoyance at the kid, taunting him again, cursing his existence once more.

They threw him away from the wall, just by the collar of his blood-soaked shirt. 

Just by tip of his sword grazing their necks, it was too big for the kid. It was almost another foot larger than he was.

They shuffled back, obviously confused by the small boy’s changed demeanor.

They had broken what was left from whatever came before this. What had kept him from taking another’s life so carelessly, what had been so tenderly given and how shown how gently he’d been loved.

Pushed away, the warmth of such a thing had been refused, it wasn’t a possibility for him to feel at that time and place. It had obviously been the only thing that let him function like a young boy should. The one thing that had him fear an opponent larger than him, let alone three.

They had taken that away from him.

Who knows when he’d get something like that back?

Maybe… just maybe, it was up to him. Maybe it was the few fatherly bones in his body that made him hurt for somebody as young as his own kin. That made him want to scoop the little boy up and replace what’d he’d lost in just the past few minutes.

He couldn’t be a true father to him, but maybe he could help lessen the burden of loss. Maybe he could be some sort of protection from the world.

It was worth a try to him.

That was a promise, unspoken. Unknown to one of the parties in such an agreement.

He was Phil’s now and Phil was his.

For as long as he could make it. For as long as he could try and comfort him.

That could be enough.

* * *

  
  
  


If you were to ask him, how he’d even gotten ahold of the kid after the Arena’s closing time. He wouldn’t be able to tell you. He wouldn’t be able to wrap his head around the silent pleas he shoved into every statement given to the owner of the establishment.

He couldn’t begin to fathom the disgust he felt from the owner’s reaction. How easily he gave the kid up, how he explained himself for doing what he did. He couldn’t explain the rage he felt in just a few quick moments at the world, how could he?

There was a tiny little thing at his side, walking slowly. Not a thing, a person. Just a really tiny one, just like his Wilbur. How his eyes darted around every few seconds, as if he was going to pull off an act of great measures and escape from Phil’s sight.

And he did.

He did a lot. He wriggled his way out of his sight, out of his arms, out of his gentle grip. It was exhausting work, yet it brought a small and sad smile to his face. It made him knit together his eyebrows as he saw the ways he’d escape from him. The way he’d be ever so quiet one moment and be almost _almost_ noisy another.

It didn’t take long to find him each time he’d run off. He would get distracted by some bird flying by, or some little trinket hiding in the earth below them. He’d be taken by the hand again, led back to the gravel path they were walking along before.

It surprised him whenever the little boy would mutter a word or two, not for that fact that he spoke. It was the way he did.

It was quiet, so painfully soft and high-pitched. It was unmistakably a little kid’s. It had a rough accent to it, almost too thick to make out whatever english he spoke, or the broken english that followed that accent. It was easy to see that the boy hadn’t been taken care of. That he’d been tossed aside like a glorified attack dog, frothing at the mouth, ready to break down at any moment.

That he almost melted into any touch that was remotely loving, the way he’d try to keep himself from getting too comfortable with a hand atop his head. That his eyes would close slightly with content at gentle words and a few warm clothes.

Phil was silently glad he’d gone out to buy Wilbur winter clothes, that the little boy now next to him would have something new and nice to wear. He could tell just by looking that the little boy was a piglin hybrid, which is probably another reason he didn’t fight the people in the Arena. They were wearing gold. It was sick.

At least it would warm him up, he’d been shivering ever since they’d gotten outside. He knew that he’d be more prone to whatever the temperature inside the enclosed city was, but he did think it’d be bad enough to need a heavy coat in the middle of autumn.

At least he stopped running every chance he’d gotten now. He’d finally settled down into a pace next to Phil, a small hand holding onto his pant leg. Just to make sure he wouldn’t leave him alone.

* * *

  
Things hadn’t all gone well though.

A quick run into the village for a few more clothes was a bad idea with the little kid. He scattered as soon as they’d entered a crowd, leaving with what looked like a metal object in his hands.

He’d taken his fucking dagger. He inwardly cursed at himself for his stupidity. Sure, let the obviously freaked out kid who just got his surroundings rocked have access to a knife.

After a few breathless minutes he had heard a few angry shouts from a man corralling his cows. Phil ducked underneath the fence, snagging his cloak on the wood. The man was pulling a child along out of his crowd of cattle. Just the kid that he was looking for.

It was just that now he had himself covered in blood up to his arms with a bloody dagger hanging loosely in his hands. The farmer went to take it from him before drawing his hands back with a hiss of pain. He’d bit him, he really bit the farmer.

He guessed that he couldn’t blame the kid, he wouldn’t want to be manhandled after just losing his shit in a murder-party.

He profusely apologized to the farmer, paying him back in cash for the mutilated calf. He could barely even look at the state the little boy left the baby animal in, it was mortifying. He had to do the act of explaining the whole situation, which was a tedious chore in itself. It turned out to be a jumbled mess of him running over his words, trying to tell him that he was taking in the kid for now, and that he didn’t mean to let him out of his sight.

There goes his reputation for this city’s rural parts. Here comes that man along with his calf mutilator kid.

With another few sorries and rushed explanations, he and the long haired boy were on their way home again. Or what could be home for the little kid.

He really needed a name for the tot.

* * *

  
  
  


He had to forcefully take the dagger away from the kid, which resulted in an inhuman snarl from him. He frowned, crouching down so he was eye-to-eye with him.

“You can’t just run about murdering people’s animals, especially with weapons that don’t belong to you.” Phil sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not good to kill innocent people or animals. Do you understand what I’m trying to get across?”

The little boy just stared at him, there was no acknowledgement of his actions, well, there probably was. He just assumed that he was much too desensitized to violence, especially if he was the one doing such acts.

“Just,” Phil rested his hands on the little boy’s shoulders. Who subconsciously stiffened and leaned into the touch at the same time, his brain was probably so touch-starved and at the same time too alert to make any sense of what he wanted. “Do me a favor and don’t get your hands on any sharp objects. Better yet, just don’t attack things at all.”

The little boy blinked, was that even considered a response? He wasn’t sure he’d even gotten so much as a word from the boy that was actually addressed to him since he started taking him home. Most of it was either directed at nothing and nobody in particular or it was to the boy himself and his ears only.

Phil didn’t know how he was going to break the news to Wilbur, so he figured if he couldn’t keep up a conversation with the boy, he’d think about introductory statements on the way home.

A good plan. It might have been poorly executed though, considering he didn’t know the little boy’s name. Nor did he think that he’d tell him it in a way he’d understand.

It was worth a try?

“Hey..?” The little piglin hybrid turned to look up at him, he had been kicking pebbles from the gravel path. “Do you have a name or something like that? I don’t know what to call you yet.”

The little boy frowned, walking slower to pick at his lips. He shrugged, “Technoblade.”

Not too shabby. Hey, at least he got a response, a name, and a three syllable word out of the boy!

“That’s an interesting name, I don’t think I’ve heard a lot of people with names like yours before.”

“Piglin… to English?” Technoblade shuffled his feet around while walking, going back to the kicking of the gravel’s larger pebbles.

“Probably. That’s most likely why I haven’t heard something like it.” Phil smiled softly. “Thank you for telling me your name.”

He didn’t get a response with words this time. Just a grunt that was too similar to a ‘sure’ in english and a shrug.

They went through a large gate, opened by guards at each side. They were there 24/7 cycling off and on using a strict schedule. Nobody got in or out of a place at night, you were stuck in there from 10pm to 6am. 

Always.

The english cottage, handcrafted with Wilbur, who hadn’t really helped much more than for emotional support, stood in green fields. Indoor cities were odd like that, outside of the large domes was just dirt and wasteland. A little palace of paradise.

* * *

  
  


Wilbur hadn’t taken too kindly to the idea of another kid being in the household, not only that, it was somebody his age if not a few months older. He yelled at him, threw a few of his orca plushes, and quickly shut himself in his room.

Techno just stood there, transfixed by the lights and plants in the room. Phil did notice the quick covering of his ears when Wilbur started yelling and shouting though. He probably just had sensitive ears being a Piglin hybrid and all.

Phil set up Techno in a room, it was their bland guest room but it’d work for him until they could decorate it. He closed the door quietly, leaving the boy to his own devices. He had to talk to Wilbur, badly.

He approached the boy’s door. He had decorated it with stickers and a little name plaque he drew himself. The doorknob opened easily, he didn’t let the kid have a lock. He was seven for crying out loud.

“Hey Wil,” He was quickly socked in the face by another plush. When had he gotten so much of these for him? “I just wanna talk about the little boy who’s here with me.”

“Oh sure, your replacement?” Wilbur rolled his eyes, he was inside a blanket fort he’d set up with Schlatt over spring break. “Yeah, tell me all about the homeless kid.”

“I couldn’t ever replace you, you’re my son. Techno, the little boy, he’s just a kid who had nowhere else to go.” Phil crouched down near the blanket fort, lifting up the blanket blocking the sight of Wilbur from him.

“Put that down. I don’t want to see you.” Wilbur batted at his hand with an unhappy frown. “I don’t like him.”

“Wil…”

“Don’t Wil me.” Wilbur shuffled around, bringing his wings up, making sure to cover most of his face with them. Wilbur’s were tawny instead of his large dark gray ones, not nearly close enough to being the right size for his age. He’d hit his growth spurt soon enough though.

“Just give him a chance. He’s been through a lot, and he’s nice. Trust me, I don’t think he’s that bad.” Phil sighed, pulling his hand away from the blanket fort.

He couldn’t be that bad. He was only what, seven? Six? Sure, he mutilated a baby cow, killed however many people, and had a running away problem, but how bad could he be? He was just a scared little kid with no home to go back to, and if he did, it certainly wasn’t here.

Things were going to be okay.

Right?


	2. Appetence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all platonic family dynamic. if i see anybody trying to do weird shit, i'll bite you. i'll actually bite you and take away your tonsils or something idk

**Appetence**

**(n.)An eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or natural bond.**

**Unruly children. Poor loving children. At the end of the day, everybody truly is just a little kid at heart.**   
  


* * *

  
  


The table was set with an easy dinner, a lamb stew of some sorts. Wilbur was slouched over in his seat, a spoon twirling around in his hand. Phil was setting bowls around the table, he had a bandage covering his fingers on his left hand. He must’ve burnt himself.

Techno knew that burns were bad. Especially if you weren’t made for hot weather and environments. He’d seen it happen to people in the Nether.

Phil sat down after using the ladle to serve the stew, he looked tired. So did Wilbur, but Wilbur also just looked grumpy. Wilbur had looked grumpy since he’d gotten here.

“I’m not hungry.” Wilbur crossed his arms, pouting. “I don’t want your cooking.”

“Wilbur, you only had breakfast and I doubt you ate lunch while I was out.” Phil rubbed at his eyes.

Techno stared at the stew, there were chunks of meat near the surface. He hadn’t had a hot meal in a while, especially not a home cooked one. The spoon was cold, little leaves were engraved into the handle.

The bowl was nice and warm to the touch. It was comforting, almost reminiscent of home.

He shoveled the stew into his mouth, barely paying attention to Wilbur’s horrified expression. It was a little warm, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to.

“Holy shit, you eat like our pigs.” Wilbur set down the spoon he was holding. Techno glared at him for that remark, but yeah, he probably did. “I’m surprised you didn’t burn your mouth.”

“Language, Wil.” Phil frowned at Techno, pulling the bowl away slowly. “But, you do need to slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick _and_ burn your mouth.”

He wouldn’t burn his mouth. Phil didn’t know better though, he was probably used to his intolerance of heat and assumed that it’d be that way for others as well. What a terrible existence.

_‘Stuck up.’_

“Language, language. Why do you get to curse then? I’ve heard you say ‘what the fuck’ more than once around me, or to me.” Wilbur rolled his eyes. 

Techno finally realized what he was going to have to deal with now, a brat. Oh well, it’s not like he hadn’t before. Plus, Wilbur wasn’t _that_ bad. There were worse little siblings and older siblings that he’d been around.

“Wilbur! What did I just say?” Phil sighed, pushing Techno’s bowl back to him.

He eyed the two, he could feel a fight coming on. He could see it in Wilbur’s face and in Phil’s demeanor. They weren’t happy with each other.

_‘Fight, fight, fight!’_

“I don’t care! You bring some weirdo kid home, and now I have to deal with him!” Wilbur slammed his tiny hands down on the table. Techno winced, the clattering of all the dishes made the sound worse.

_‘He’s not weird.’_

_‘Just boring and quiet.’_

_‘Not to mention covered in blood frequently.’_

“You aren’t _dealing_ with him! You’re not even taking care of him, or talking to him!” Phil wasn’t raising his voice yet, but it wouldn’t be long until he did by the look of things.

“I don’t want him here! You’d be better off bringing another pig home! He looks just like them!” Wilbur thrust a hand out towards Techno to try and emphasize his point.

Techno shrugged, Wilbur was a tad correct in said point. Who cares? He was cooler than some livestock pig though.

“That’s enough! Don’t you remember when you got lost? I bet you’d like somewhere warm and lit up then, you’re lucky I found you before the gates closed!”

Wilbur shut up at that. His lip was trembling, he looked ready to cry. It was a good thing nobody was throwing gasoline on this fire.

“Afraid of the dark, huh?” Techno deadpanned his look towards Wilbur. “I couldn’t imagine that.”

_‘Ouch.’_

_‘What an instigator.’_

Wilbur glared at him, while also being rightfully confused. “Who do you think you are? You’re just some stupid kid, and I’m not afraid of the dark!”

Wilbur was in fact, also a stupid kid.

“He speaks more than a word at a time!” Phil laughed, immediately forgetting his anger. The tension in the room started to clear a little. Wilbur shook his head, finally taking some deep breaths.

“Yeah, but his accent makes him sound dumb.” Wilbur crossed his arms, he was trying to get under his skin again.

_‘Okay, posh british boy.’_

_‘What’s he gonna do? Offer us some tea?’_

“Sure, _your_ accent doesn’t sound stupid either. Glad I’m not from a dead country.” Techno took another spoonful of his soup.

Phil choked on his water, a combination of a laugh and a cough did it for the man. “Okay, okay, let’s not joke like that.” He was laughing quietly, trying to pretend like he wasn’t.

“At least I have a parent and a home.” Wilbur shot back a remark.

“At least I had a mom.”

_‘Too far. Obviously.’_

The table was really quiet now. Wilbur’s mouth was open from shock, Phil was staring at his stew, and Techno was kicking his legs innocently under the table. It was easier to just ignore their reactions, they were clearly unhappy with what he said.

_‘It was kinda funny though.’_

_‘It was pretty funny.’_

“Well obviously not anymore, where’s she now? Six feet under?” Wilbur kicked him from under the table. A shit-eating grin plastered on his dumb face. His about to be bloody face, if he’d just get a little closer.

Techno sighed, trying to ignore the angry thoughts. He didn’t hate Wilbur, he actually found him sort of funny.

“Wilbur, go to your room please.” Phil sighed into his glass of water. “We’re not continuing this tangent now.”

Wilbur pushed his chair away from the table, he stomped away from the table, looking back once to flip him off. Where did he learn that one? Phil groaned, standing up while pushing away his chair. He started clearing away the dishes before turning to Techno.

“Don’t talk about things like that, don’t joke about them like that, better yet, leave that whole parent topic alone. It’s just a bad idea.” Phil’s stare burned into his head, like he was trying to mind-control him. Could he do that?

“Alright.” Techno pushed his bowl towards the man, he wasn’t looking to get on Phil’s bad side. Especially after he was nice to him, for the most part at least. “Do you have a… um, bathroom?”

“Sure, it’s upstairs and the first door to the right. There’s a shower there, ask Wilbur for help if you need it.” Phil waved a hand towards the stairs, leaving Techno to his own devices while he cleaned up from dinner.

* * *

  
Wilbur had given him a ugly brown sweater, it had his name embroidered into the hem. It was comfy enough though and it was newer than what he’d been wearing for a long time.

“Sorry… I guess, about dinner.” Wilbur frowned, wringing about his hands before running them through his hair. “I’m just a little frustrated. I don’t actually mind you being here.”

Wilbur shut the closet door, awkwardly standing next to Techno now. Shuffling around on his feet every now and then.

Techno shrugged, “I thought it was a little funny.”

“I did too, nice comebacks.” Wilbur nudged him playfully. Techno gave him a slight smile, trying to push away the almost violent thoughts that followed Wilbur’s action. He wasn’t trying to hurt him.

“Sorry about the mother comment though, it was mean.” He moved around, uncomfortable with the thought.

“Okay yeah, those ones were shitty. I took it a little far though.”

Techno snorted. A little far? “Yeah, sure did.”

“I do…” Wilbur groaned softly, resting his head in his hands. “I do like you being here. It’s nice. It is. I’m just scared.”

Wilbur leaned into Techno, wrapping his arms around the boy. Techno almost melted into his grip. A familial appetence.

Shut up, he wasn’t being soft.

_‘Yes you are.’_

_‘Awww, Technosoft.’_

“I don’t know why, but you’re already like my brother.” Wilbur gently wrapped his wings around him. They were soft and a pretty tawny color. “It’s so stupid, we haven’t even known each other for a day. I’m just dumb.”

Techno sighed, wrapping his own arms around the boy. “You’re weird.”

He nestled his face into the crook of Wilbur’s neck, the boy was slightly taller than him. Curse said Piglin genetics. He didn’t really mind though, he’d probably end up hitting a growth spurt and being unnaturally tall compared to him.

Wilbur laughed, chirping a few times in between said laughter. Techno furrowed his brow, Wilbur did know that he couldn’t understand the chirps. Right?

Wilbur tensed a little bit before squeezing him tighter into the hug. A little coo sound was made. That was a little sweet, but he still had no clue what it meant. It must’ve been something stupid or embarrassing since Wilbur started to back away.

“Shut up.” Wilbur pushed him away, flopping into his bed. “I’m going to sleep, you can do whatever it is you do at night.” The boy covered his face with the crook of his arm, trying to hide from Techno’s stare.

He rolled around a few times before settling down into the bed. Wilbur was quiet, really quiet now. Techno decided to look through the kid’s book shelves. There were plenty of different options, obviously Phil felt the need to provide adequate literature. 

He rolled his eyes and flipped through the picture books to his left. Staring at the nicely colored pages, little crayon figures of Phil and Wilbur are drawn poorly next to the actual drawings. A little rude, but they added to the nice family dynamic Phil and Wilbur had going on.

Wilbur was… odd, to say the least. He’d gone from being angry, to being sad, to laughing and calling him a brother in just a few minutes. He was off the odd charts, but Techno couldn’t put another word on it.

It was nice.

_‘Awww.’_

_‘I missed other people.’_

_‘It’s warm here.’_

Wilbur was now snoring in bed, not loudly though. It was soft. Techno frowned at the thought of sleeping alone in his room, and it wasn’t like the blankets on the guest room bed were very warm.

He hated the cold. No, he didn’t. Well, he didn’t know how to feel about it. It was bizarre to him and it was something that made him feel vulnerable.

He clambered into the bed next to the other boy, mentally cursing himself.

He stared at the sleeping boy, his hair curling into a funny pattern on his head. Techno rested his head on the opposite pillow to him, feeling rather tired after the hectic day.

Against his own pride and ego he rested his own forehead against Wilbur’s. Why? He had no clue. He really had no clue, no way to wrap his head around it.

But, there was just a natural bond there. Just a simple, unsaid, and needed bond. One that said,

“I guess we’re brothers.”

Techno supposed that they were.

It had been a while since he’d been able to call somebody family so simply. To have been able to rest his own head against another’s. To do such a simple action and to say so many words without speaking.

He snuggled closer to Wilbur, who had wrapped an arm around him as well as a wing. He sighed, content with the touch of another person. It had been so long since he’d gotten to cuddle another person his age. He missed his old bastion.

_‘We miss them too.’_

_‘They were family.’_

_‘We miss Mother.’_

Techno sighed, now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Thankfully Wilbur helped him fall asleep, the kid was basically like a portable heater.

* * *

Phil opened the door to Wilbur’s room, met with the sight of two little boys sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. He sighed, resting a hand on Wilbur’s head. The little boy was resting his head against Techno’s, a wing also over the other boy’s body.

Techno was contently wrapped up in his little boy’s arms, a small smile parting his lips slightly. He ruffled the little boy’s hair before turning off the dimly lit lamp. It made the room look a lot darker, it hid the two from sight. From the world’s gaze. Just a little place for two children against whatever the world would throw at them.

Phil supposed that just maybe… it really was going to be just fine. Whatever issues were brought up, whatever life decided would need to be thrown at them, it would be okay.

Because they were family now, and family is never something by blood. It’s just found.

He rested a wing on both of them before leaving the room, chirping a soft song, watching the two relax more. If that was even possible, they both looked as peaceful as they probably ever would be.

Phil frowned slightly, the world wouldn’t be harsh on them for a while. He didn’t want to think about when it would be or how it already had been. Especially for Techno, he’d gone through so much, and probably so much more than he knew of.

At least he was here for now.

And Techno was his, and now he was Wilbur’s as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hullo again.
> 
> feel free to comment or leave kudos, bookmark whatever. i like to read theories and criticism.  
> although, not a lot to theorise of since most of what i've been writing so far has been fluff. oops. maybe that'll change soon. 
> 
> ily all, hope you're staying safe. <3
> 
> love,  
> shark.

**Author's Note:**

> updates are not going to very consistent with my school and all.  
> however we do have a plot now so the storyline actually makes a lick of sense.
> 
> arcs include multiple chapters. think of it like a book. there will be parts as well as a word and definition to go along with each chapter.
> 
> enjoy the calm before the storm.
> 
> love,
> 
> shark.
> 
> :)


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